


I'm bleeding, I'm not just making conversation

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 01/22/2017 Now has a cover picture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, I have not read the books, It's gonna get steamy, Love or something like it, M/M, Raphael has feelings, Raphael is a good person okay, Saphael, i ain't even ashamed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Raphael has survived for decades with his clan and a well stocked collection of O negative and B positive. He was fine, honestly, content. And then Camille killed a mundane and said mundane became his responsibility.And this is where the story splits, he supposes-Bitter jaded vampire takes up with a dyed in the wool doe eyed fledgling and nothing goes as planned.





	

 

  

I swear I end up feeling empty like you’ve taken something out of me

and I have to search my body for the scars,

thinking

_Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in?_

([x](http://www.colorado.edu/journals/standards/V7N1/MMM/siken.html))

* * *

 

 

"I've disappointed you." 

It's November, they're stood in Simon's backyard. The sky is pitch black and everything is  _wrong._

Simon shifts to the right, hands in his pockets. His face is cast in a sliver of moonlight in the wrong angles. 

"Look, I get it. I'm not the greatest guy in the world and I'm even mediocre at being a blood sucking creature of the night but I don't get it. You're constantly finding fault in everything I do. I want to know _why_." 

Raphael has survived for decades with his clan and a well stocked collection of O negative and B positive. He was fine, honestly, content. And then Camille killed a mundane and said mundane became his responsibility. And this is where the story splits, he supposes- 

Bitter jaded vampire takes up with a dyed in the wool doe eyed fledgling and nothing goes as planned.

Take tonight, for example. The two of them had dined at Elaine Lewis' house for the third time in two months and something just _clicked_. An answer as to why he was playing a part that was never his in the first place. A space that should've been filled by Clary Fairchild or Isabelle Lightwood. It was unnerving, to say the least. 

But that wasn't the worst of it, no.

 

* * *

 

 

The worst by far was this - 

 

_"Thank you...for bringing my Simon back to me. I don't expect him to move back in but this? It works. Whatever you're doing, please don't stop."_

 -

 

_and, later, a whispered conversation he wasn't meant to overhear-_

 

_"...he's charming, Monkey. And your sisters seem to like him. You should take him to that little coffee shop in town. They've got a white chocolate mocha that's to die for."_

_Simon froze, mid scraping out a plate. He let the 'to die for' slip, she wouldn't and should never understand the double entendre._ _"Mom? ...You're okay with this? Not that it's...it's a thing."_

 

_It was then that Raphael stepped outside, head spinning._

_Hearing the door close, Simon followed._

* * *

 

"I don't hate you, Simon." 

His life would be significantly easier if he could. Ignorantly, Simon assumes Raphael is constructed of razored edges and pure unbridled spite. He couldn't be further from the truth if he tried. 

If anything, he feels too passionately about every aspect of his life and the family he shares it with. Decades of abuse at Camille's hand and receiving nothing more than a twisted substitute for love tends to make a person defensive.  It takes time.

 "Then why are you constantly coming at me? I'm not your enemy, Raphael." 

Misunderstandings and feelings, Raphael thinks. I didn't sign up for this. He steps closer anyway, jaw tight as he crowds Simon up against what used to be his father's shed. From this angle, Elaine Lewis cannot see them.

"Why didn't you correct her?" He demands.

Simon flinches. Surely the fledgling doesn't actually think he'd  _hurt_ him. 

Even so; softer, he reminds himself. "In the kitchen," he adds, voice lower.  

If it were possible, Simon's face would've paled. As it were, he's nervously jamming his hands in his pockets, eyes owlish in the inky black night. "I...I thought...vampires like coffee. I mean I drink it," he sputters. 

He's a terrible liar, absolutely horrendous. It makes Raphael want to peg him with questions and revelation's that stick in his head just to watch Simon squirm out of them. There will be time for that later, he supposes. 

Raphael palms Simon's shoulder, thumb resting against a collar bone through his thin t-shirt. "You never asked," he replied, smoothly. 

"Do you...? Like it, I mean." 

They're not discussing a breakfast drink. 

 

Raphael smirks. "I haven't had it in ages-"

Simon's face falls, he stares at his feet.

"...but I'd be willing to try." Removing his hand he ghosts it over Simon's torso, savoring how quickly his fledgling begins to breathe. An old habit. "I wouldn't be opposed to a sample," he adds. 

By now Simon's hands ball at his side, impatient. "Just so we're clear; you don't actually want coffee, right?" 

Wordlessly, Raphael takes both lax arms and slides them around his own waist, under his navy suit jacket. Simon's hands are cool against his dress shirt. Unfortunately he is still stiff, unmoving. Perhaps waiting for a snide remark followed by Raphael leaving with nothing more than a blurred breeze. 

"You tell me," Raphael purrs. 

" _Oh_ ," says Simon. He tightens his grip, thumb cautiously forming a small uneven trek up the curve of Raphael's waist and down. 

Elaine's words drift back into Raphael's mind - 

_Whatever you're doing, it's working. Don't stop._

He could be good for Simon, they could be amazing. Or this could end in a fiery disaster that leaves them both hardened and regretful. Decades, he thought. How long I have waited. Impossibly, there is a person carved out for him that sees his sharp edges and does not care if they knick him. 

I'm bleeding, he thought. On the inside where a heart should be thumping wildly. Blood as a metaphor for need, a verb.

 

He skims a hand up Simon's chest and pulls him down. He is acutely aware of the earthy smell of Simon Lewis, the bulk of him. Simon is expecting a kiss. He closes his eyes, parts his lips. Ever the avid fan of the unexpected, Raphael tugs his fledgling's jacket aside until his neck is exposed. "Simon." He whispers, lips meeting bare skin. 

Simon's hands tighten around his waist, shuddering. 

There is an art to touching another person, a skill that has grown rusty over the years but Raphael wields it well. Judging by the grip around his waist, now trailing its way up his ribs, he's succeeding at taking Simon apart. Still, he wants more. He's starving with _need_. There's a throbbing vein, pale blue and delicate, mapped out along the side of his neck and it's begging to be sampled. Raphael flattens his tongue against it and licks a heated path. 

"Nnnghh," Simon says. He curls both arms around Raphael's shoulderblades, encasing him like angels wings reversed, closing the space between them. Eagerly, he further exposes his neck. 

"Simon," Raphael breathes. They've hardly touched and he's addicted. He wants like he never has,  _craves._ He scrapes the tip of his teeth, now extended, along the vein. It's a question, an answer.

_Can I?_

"Please," Simon pleads.  _Bite. Lick. Suck. Take what you want._

Raphael doesn't need to be told twice. He sinks his sharpened fangs in and oh god it's dizzying. A headrush of Simon Simon  _Simon._ Hungrily, he drinks. Hot wet suction in the cool night air. Simon staggers and Raphael holds him, one arm around his lower back and the other all but tugging the entire left side of his jacket off. 

Simon moans and "Oh God...that feels...nnnghhh." 

Raphael could drink all night without being sated, could touch every inch and never grow restless -  _Now that's a thought. Later?_

Still, logic says that he cannot keep going unless he wants to seriously hurt or lose Simon Lewis. Neither option appeals to him. Reluctantly he pulls back and chases an errant drop that slides along the slope of a pale shoulder. 

"You..." Simon pants, taking Raphael's face in his hands. He slots their mouths together and tastes himself on those blood slick lips. It's a union, an apology, a  _welcome home_ and  _I had hoped_ all at once. Raphael parts his lips, kissing with fervor and for the first time, Simon feels  _warm._  

* * *

"Simon? Boys?" Elaine's voice cuts through the haze, clear as a bell. 

Simon smiles against Raphael's mouth once before breaking the kiss. "Just a sec," he calls. 

From her vantage point on the back porch with its yellowed light, she squints. "You've been out here for half an hour. I got worried."

Proving he's not the sweet holy boy Simon's mother thinks he is, Raphael slips his hands under Simon's t-shirt and drags his fingernails down his back.

"I," Simon begins, completely forgetting what he'd meant to say. 

"He's fine. I was checking on him, possible...spider bite." Raphael replies, smirking.

"Nothing serious," Simon adds.

She must pick up on something because suddenly Elaine is smiling, waving them off. "Take your time." 

The front door closes behind her with a soft thud. 

"Coffee?" Simon offers. 

Raphael's brows raise because naturally Simon has switched the conversation to actual coffee. They can have _coffee_ somewhere less conspicuous. "We have plenty at home." Hotel DuMort.  _Home._

Simon ducks down and presses his lips to Raphael's for that using that word in regards to them. It's a firm grateful kiss that says, _Home is you, home is DuMort. _"Yes...wait, no. We have to say goodnight first. I don't want her to worry," Simon counters. 

Raphael groans, leaning his head against Simon's chest. "Fine but you can't walk in there with blood on your neck. You're a mess. Here, let me." 

* * *

 

It's another fifteen minutes before they're standing in the living room once more. Simon fumbles for his hand and finding no resistance, laces their fingers together. Raphael gives him a _'Really?'_ glare but holds steady. 

Elaine is clutching leftovers in aluminum foil when she sees it. Her entire face lights up. 

Maybe, he thinks, that space is mine. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (my first fic for this fandom, please be nice. I know this pairing is problematic but most are so. also please accept my heartfelt apology if it's OOC; I did my best)


End file.
